


Too Close For Comfort

by scarletladyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletladyy/pseuds/scarletladyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the war, nowhere will hire Pansy Parkinson, and she desperately needs a job. The only person willing to give her a chance is Harry, and things are awkward for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close For Comfort

"I don't understand why you want to work here of all places," said Harry, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "Care to explain?"

"Nowhere else will take me."

Harry sighed knowingly. "Ahh."

"I thought with your good nature and all that stuff..."

"...that I'd forgive you for trying to hand me over to Voldemort?" He said as he raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry about that," Pansy mumbled, playing with her hair and hiding behind it. "Look, I just need a chance."

Harry really hated his good side sometimes. He couldn't stand the fact that people like her took advantage of the way he showed mercy to pretty much anyone and everyone. He thought back to how the Parkinsons lost all of their money in a court trial after the war, having to surrender their assests to the families of those they tortured. "Did you commit any of the crimes?" he asked, curious of her answer. He knew Malfoy had become a Death Eater, but Parkinson had been a surprise.

Pansy shook her head. "No. It was mainly my father."

"That's good to hear." In a moment of worry, he asked her to lift her left sleeve. There was no Dark Mark there. "Good. Just checking."

Pansy seemed to be getting irate now; her breaths were becoming shorter and Harry could see the fire in her eyes. "Are you going to give me a job or not?"

"Did anyone ever tell you not to bite the hand that feeds you, Parkinson?"

She scowled. "No."

"Clearly." In some ways Harry found it quite amusing that she was here, begging for a job, and he knew if any of the others had seen her, they'd have taken advantage. But no, he was too good for that, no matter how much he knew he could tease her. "You can have a trial period of three weeks."

There was a little smile peaking at the edges of her mouth, but nothing more than that. She didn't even say thank you, which irked Harry somewhat. They didn't really need any more staff, apart from to give the Weasley boys more time off. Harry ran the place on his own most days; Ron was out with Hermione and he never knew where the twins were. 'Researching', they called it, but Harry suspected otherwise.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" he asked, annoyed at her lack of gratitude.

Parkinson pursed her lips. "When do I start?"

"Now." Harry sighed, realising it was going to take a lot of effort for them to work well together. If they ever could, rather. It appeared to be a long shot.

"Trust you." Parkinson didn't look very happy as she made her way behind the counter, shoving her bag underneath it. "Look after that. It's expensive."

"One of the only things you have left, is it?" Harry couldn't help himself; she'd always had a tendancy to wind him up. "Sorry," he mumbled, almost inaudibly, when he saw the look of sorrow glint across her face. It wasn't there for long though, it was as though it was an emotion she wasn't used to.

"Screw you, Potter," she said nastily. "What do you want me to do?"

"Have you ever worked in a shop before?" Harry asked, and she shook her head. "All right. Have you ever worked before?"

"Of course not."

Harry hadn't a clue why that was apparently a silly question. He thought, and believed, that everyone should work and do their bit, if they could. Clearly Parkinson was capable of working, she just didn't want to. It was only because she had to that she was now doing it, and Harry suspected she really didn't fancy receiving benefits. "What's your mother doing for money?"

"None of your business," she said, defensively, and gave him a look of disdain. She looked at the floor, as though she was ashamed of what she was about to say. "She isn't working," she finally said, albeit quietly. "And she says she'd rather die than ask for help."

"She's sending you out to work for her?" Harry blurted out, not really thinking about tact.

Parkinson nodded.

"That's not really on, with your father in prison and all. Where are you living, anyway?"

"My grandmothers, but it's a squeeze." All of a sudden, Parkinson changed. Her other look, the one Harry was used to, came over her. "Can we not talk about this?"

"Right." Harry unfolded his arms and pointed towards the till. "It's fairly simple to use..." He spent ages trying to teach her what to do, but she just didn't seem to get it, so he told her how to do it with magic instread. This she found much easier. "If you just work on that for now, I'll teach you the more... _complex_ things later."

Parkinson turned to scowl at him. "Shove off, Potter."

"Boy," sighed Harry, "you really do like my last name, don't you?"

She folded her arms and leant against the till. "Mhm? And what am I supposed to call you? I certainly won't be using 'Harry' if that's what you're after."

Harry shook his head. "No, no. 'Sir' or 'Boss' will do just fine."

"You have got to be joking!" she shrieked, her voice echoing around the room. "I refuse!"

"I'll be doing a report on you for the three weeks that you're here, so if I were you, and you want to keep your job, I'd work on some respect." With that, Harry turned on his heels into the back room. He needed to do a stock take, but he also wanted to pay a quick visit to Ron to let him know of the staff change. It was the twins' shop, but they were never around, so Ron was next in charge.

Harry stepped into the fireplace, grabbing some Floo powder as he did so. "The Burrow," he said loudly and clearly, not wanting the same mishap as when he'd ended up in Knockturn Alley all those years ago. The kitchen was empty, but there it still had a warm, homely feeling. Harry made his way through the house and up to Ron's bedroom, where he guessed he'd be reading the latest Quidditch magazine. Alas, he was. "I've got some news, mate."

Ron looked up from his magazine, though he seemed reluctant to do so. "Yeah?"

"I've hired someone to help me run the shop, since I'm the only one there most days."

"Fine, fine," Ron waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't you want to know who it is?"

"Why would I care?" There was a look of confusion on his face; one Harry had always loved seeing there, and luckily, it didn't tend to be a rare occurance.

"Oh, you'll care."

Ron looked as though he was waiting for Harry to continue, but when he didn't, shook his shoulders. "Well, who is it?"

A wide smile spread across Harry's face. "Pansy Parkinson."

*

"I think this is the first time you've come into work in a long time," said Harry as they Apparated to _Weasley's Wizzard Weases_.

"I have to see this for myself." Ron shrugged his shoulders, getting the soot off them. "You must be joking."

"Parkinson?" Harry called as he stepped out of the fireplace. She wasn't at the till, where he'd told her to be yesterday, and she didn't know how to do anything else. They wandered through the shop until they reached to the back room, where they decided to relax and wait for her, but lo and behold, there she was. Her long legs were stretched out on a chair, and she was leaning back comfortably with a cup of tea and a magazine in her hands. "What on earth are you doing?"

Parkinson lazily moved her eyes from her magazine. "What's wrong? I'm here, aren't I?"

"You have to do more than just _be here_ ," Harry stressed. "You're supposed to be on the till! What if someone came in and nicked something?" Harry turned to Ron for support, but he just looked dumbfounded.

"What are you staring at, Weasley?" Parkinson asked.

Ron ignored her and turned to Harry. "You actually did it. You actually hired her. Why, Harry, _why_?"

"She needed a job," he shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Nowhere else would take her."

"I can see why," Ron blurted out, not bothering to hide his apparent anger. "She's rude, nasty -"

"Oi!" Parkinson interrupted them. "I can hear you, you know."

Ron folded his arms tightly. "I'm not working here while she is."

"You don't work here anyway," said Harry, looking at him oddly.

"Yeah, well," Ron stumbled, looking increasingly uncomfortable and backing out of the room. "I've got to go. Get rid of her!"

"Still a pleasent man, then, I see."

"You can't blame him," Harry sighed. "After everything you and your family has done."

"Who cares, Potter? Who fucking cares about a few Mudbloods and blood traitors, eh?"

"I do."

"Well," Parkinson sighed, her eyes narrowed at him. "You would."

"Just get to work, will you?" Harry decided he'd had enough of her for one day, and he'd only just seen her. He wasn't sure this was a good idea after all, but he'd promised her a trial and that was exactly what she was going to get. Unless, of course, she did something like deliberately set the stock on fire, but he didn't really see that happening any time soon. When she left, he took her place in the chair, but was annoyed to see she'd taken her tea with her. Now he'd have to make his own, and he was terrible at that.

The morning went fairly quietly, and he hadn't seen Parkinson since earlier, when she was lounging around in the back room. He was partly grateful as she was so confrontational, but at the same time it was so quiet he worried something might be up. For all he knew, she could have robbed them and ran off hours ago. Concerned, he made his way through to the shop area, where he found her stood behind the till. She was leaning with her head on her hands, which meant her arse was stuck out.

Harry, being the man that he was, couldn't help but stare. It was the first time he'd noticed what she was wearing; nude stockings with a black skirt, and he had to say she had a pretty decent body. Realising what he was doing, and how inapprorpiate it was, he pulled his gaze away and went to sit back down, shaking the image out of his head. The last thing he wanted to do was to have her find him staring at her. She'd have a field day and be tormenting him about it for years.

Harry was doing a stock take later on in the day when she came through the door, the first time since this morning. "You are allowed a break, you know," he told her. "Half an hour, mind."

"I only came in to tell you I'm signing off for the day." She grabbed her black coat from the hangers.

He looked at his watch, confused. "But you've still got another hour."

Parkinson shrugged. "Eh. I'm off."

"You can't just -" he started to say, but she'd already walked out the door before he had a chance to finish. He rolled his eyes, realising he'd have to do both the stock take and mind the shop, and he hated doing it on his own.

The hour went by, albeit slowly, and Harry was finally setting off home. He had a flat just round the corner from Diagon Alley; it was close to work and he loved the area so much he wanted to be near it. Sometimes he found himself quite lonely though - it was almost like being back at the Dursleys. There was none of the hustle and bustle that there was at the Burrow, and there were no boys playing pranks like there was at Hogwarts. There was just him, and he got to do whatever he wanted. Of course, there was a plus in this, but sometimes it was a little too boring for him.

It wasn't long before Harry found himself getting into bed and going to sleep. He thought about going to the pub, but he was so prone to hangovers that it just wasn't that worth it unless there was something to celebrate. Knowing Ron and Seamus, they wouldn't just let him have one or two, they'd be goading him to drink like a fish.

Harry's mind wandered to other things, and finally seemed to settle on the image of Parkinson's arse from the afternoon. He couldn't shake how curvy she was, and how attractive and sexy her legs were. His cock started to harden as he continued to think about her, and despite there being nobody around, he blushed. Harry knew he'd never be able to get to sleep with an erection, so he shoved his hand into his boxers and started to wank himself off. The image of Parkinson was firmly in his mind now, and every now and again he saw her face, and the bitchy look that was usually plastered all over it.

Harder and harder he stroked himself, feeling the sexual tension rise as he switched between her face and her body. His breathing increased and so did his hands; he was on the brink of an orgasm. Harry exploded to the image of that look on her face, sweating and shaking slightly. It was the hardest and fastest he'd come in a very long time. Ashamed and wanting to forget about it as soon as possible, he grabbed his wand and got rid of the come from his stomach, before turning over and drifting off to sleep.

*

Harry really wanted to call in sick to work the next morning, but he knew full well he couldn't leave Parkinson in charge; she'd only been working there two days and she wasn't very good at it. And then there were the Weasleys, and none of them ever turned up so he'd have to go in. It was the last thing he wanted to do though. She'd never know what he did, but he knew as soon as he saw her face it would be a problem.

He was right. When she walked in for her shift he couldn't look her in the eye. She was giving him that face again, the same one he'd wanked over last night. It made him uncomfortable and he started to get all hot and sweaty, his hands growing clammy.

"What's up with you?" she asked, clearly sensing there was something wrong, but he obviously couldn't tell her what it was.

"Er, nothing," he finally managed to get out, though he stumbled a little. "I'm just going to, er..." Harry didn't finish his sentence, he just took one look at her body and what she was wearing before heading straight to the back room. If it wasn't bad enough before, it was even worse now and he cursed himself for doing something so stupid. He couldn't believe he had done that over _her_. He didn't even _like_ her. Surely you had to like someone to wank over them? Apparently for Harry, you didn't. Just being sexy was enough. ' _No! She's not sexy!_ he told himself, but it did no good.

Harry filled his morning with the accounts, trying to ignore the fact that she was in the next room doing god knows what. Every so often, though, his thoughts wondered to her and his cock started to stir. He kept getting semi's, and though never fully hard, they were still annoying.

"I thought I'd have that break you told me about." Parkinson came into the room and took the chair opposite him. This time, he got a proper look at what she was wearing: a skimpy red dress with black, almost see-through, stockings. Her heels, he had to admit, worked very well for her outfit, but he wasn't quite sure it was appropriate for work.

Harry looked into her eyes, saw her face, and got a full erection. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, placing his arm over his crotch. "Right, yeah, sure."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm not sure that outfit is appropriate for work, Parkinson." Harry tried to speak with confidence in his voice, but it just wasn't working for him. He was too awkward around her. "Perhaps, tomorrow, you could come in something a little less revealing?"

"Ahh." Parkinson pursed her lips into an evil smile. "So you can't stop staring at me, eh?"

"No!" Harry almost shouted, and she seemed alarmed at his reaction. "No, no. It's nothing like that. I just think the customers -"

"What?" she folded her arms, but it did nothing but accentuate her bosom, making his cock throb. "You don't think customers want to look at me? I disagree."

"Not the female ones," he stated simply.

"Ahh," she dismissed them. "Who wants female customers anyway?"

"Me."

A smirk came across her face. "Looking for a lady, are we?"

"That is none of your business."

Parkisnon tutted. "I would think it is when you can't stop staring at my body."

"It's not like that!" There was too much panic and worry in his voice. Any minute now he was sure he'd just blurt out what had happened and that would just make everything worse. "I'm going to man the front while you... take a break." As he walked out, he heard her wolf whistle at him and he gulped loudly.

Harry did see many attractive female customers on a daily basis, but there was nothing about them that, well, sparked him off. It was as though that face on Parkinson was a trigger. Of course, he was sure it wasn't one he could fall in love with, but it seemed his cock had other ideas. All afternoon he struggled with having the images of her in his head and he didn't understand why, he'd only been around her for a couple of days, and she irritated him no end.

When she finally did get back to work, after her extra long break, she didn't do much and he found her way with the customers to be unsatisfactory. "You need to be polite and nice to them," he said to her, but she just shrugged.

"I don't see why. They don't like me, they all know about my family."

"We want them to keep coming back so we can stay in business. And so what? You're trying to make amends. In case you didn't know, that is a good thing." Harry sighed when she just dismissed his words with a snort. "Do you want me to teach you how to be nice to the customers? Is that it?"

Parkinson shook her head and put on her bitchy look.

"It seems you need to be taught a thing or two. Right," he pushed her gently so she was around the counter, facing him, and he was next to the till. "You pretend to be a customer and I'll show you how to behave."

"This is ridiculous." She bent down with her elbows resting on the table, her head in her hands. This was awkward for Harry as he now had a plain view of her breasts, which he tried very hard not to stare at.

"Just do it." It was the most commanding tone he'd used in a while, and he suspected it was because he was trying to keep his attentions purely businesslike. "Hello, Madam. What can I do for you today?"

Parkinson pursed her lips. "I want a love potion."

Harry smiled at her pleasantly. "Of course. We have a large range here," he pointed to his left. "Is there any one in particular you fancy?"

She pointed to the third one in. "I'll have that one."

"Of course, Madam. You look lovely today." Harry tried telling himself he didn't mean it, but of course, he knew he really did. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Have you finished now?" Parkinson was clearly very tired of this whole charade, and didn't think she needed to be trained how to be polite to the customers. Harry thought otherwise, and he suspected the Weasleys would too. But, he also knew when to cut his losses, and he wasn't going to get anywhere further with her today.

He stepped back, shrugging his shoulders. "For now, I suppose." He left her to it, going back into the back room to work on the accounts again. He knew the less time he spent around her the easier it would be, and the faster he would stop feeling so uncomfortable.

For the rest of the afternoon he managed to keep his mind completely off her. No images of her body or her face came across his mind, though he supposed it was because the accounts were so tricky. Either way, he was glad. He was scrutinising a few numbers when he heard footsteps, and then the room went completely black. "What's happened? Parkinson?" he called out, frantically, but there was no response.

As able as he could in the dark, he stood up and felt his way around, he knew his wand was around here somewhere. His left hand steadied him against the bookcase, almost digging into his back, while his right hand looked for his wand on his desk.

The footsteps grew closer; they were soft and gentle, and he could hear light breathing. "Who is that?" Again, there was no answer. It was then that he felt something on his arm and he let out a yelp, finally touching his wand and casting _Lumos_. "Parkinson!" he breathed rapidly, his wand pointed straight at her. Her hand was just coming away from his arm, but she was standing very, very close to him. "What did you do that for?"

"Accident," she whispered in his ear, and he noticed she was searching his face for something. "I just finished closing up the front. Wondered if you need any help?"

Harry shook his head. "N-n-no thanks," he stammered. He wanted to step back, but there was no room, as the place was tiny. "Can you give me a -"

"What? Bit of breathing space?" Parkinson shook her head. "That won't do."

"What do you mean?"

Parkinson didn't speak, she just bent down to her knees so her face was right in front of his crotch. When she started to unzip his flies, he knew he had to do something. He couldn't let this happen, it was wrong on so many levels.

"Stop," He said, though it didn't come out as confidently as he would have liked it to. "You have to stop."

She shook her head and undid his trouser button, and that's when he used his hands to try and bat her away. The space was too limited though, and he'd only be able to stop her if he hurt her, and he didn't want to do that.

"Please?" Harry was almost begging now and was blushing because of it; he knew the sight of her on her knees like this would be enough to get him erect. "I don't want to do this."

"Yes, you do." Parkinson had never appeared more confident than she was doing right at that very moment, and the worst thing was that Harry knew she was right. He _did_ want it. He selfishly wanted it for his pleasure, and since she was willing to give it to him, he didn't understand why he was trying to stop her. Well, he was trying with as little as he could possibly get away with. He wasn't _really_ trying.

Harry closed his eyes out of sheer embarrassment as she pulled his trousers down; there were only his boxers left now, and he really wished he hadn't put on his dinosaur ones.

"Classy," she remarked, and that only seemed to turn him on even more. She pulled his boxers right down to his ankles, letting his erect cock spring free. "My, my Potter. The rumours were true."

Harry snapped open his eyes. "Rumours? What rumours?"

"You don't think the Weaslette can talk?" Parkinson winked at him and turned her attentions back to his cock. Harry almost jumped out of his skin when she gently caressed him, and banged his eyes shut again. When she brought her mouth closer and he felt her hot breath on his skin, he felt in heaven. It had been months since anyone had done this for him, and he never suspected that she would be his next sexual partner.

Even though Parkinson was right beneath him, the only image through Harry's head was the same one he'd wanked over the other night: her bitchy face. He felt her tongue stroke his penis; long, slow strokes and he chanced a look down at her, having the perfect view of her tits. She must have sensed him shake, or get harder, because she started bringing her mouth down on him faster than before, and she'd cupped his balls in her hand.

"This is so wrong," he whispered as he felt himself getting closer, and the fact that it was such an issue just turned him on even more. "I think I might..." he felt his cock swelling up and his balls tighten; he was going to cum soon. As her face went through his mind again, he felt her squeeze his balls and he threw his head back, exploding in her hands.

"Ew," she said, wiping his sperm on his leg.

"Hey!" he replied. "What are you doing?"

She huffed as she stood up. "Giving you back what's yours."

As she turned to leave, Harry grabbed his wand and cleaned himself off. "Don't you want to talk about what just happened?" he asked as he pulled his trousers on, a little embarrassed.

Parkinson put a single finger to his lips. "Shhh."

*

The next few days at work were awkward for Harry, but Parkinson seemed to be pleased that he was so uncomfortable. Wherever possible she would tease him, grabbing his crotch or brushing lightly across his face. It could be subtle or it could be bold - both had the same effect on him. It was as though she had him hooked, and he hated it. Well, he thought he hated it, but at the same time it still turned him on greatly.

Parkinson kept insisting that he'd have to pay her back for what she did for him, but he just told her that he never asked for it. According to her, though, that didn't matter in the slightest. She wanted compensation for 'what he'd put her through'. If it wasn't so sinister, it would have made him laugh. He didn't have any intention of making a move on her at all. Not one. He wasn't even sure if he'd be brave enough to anyway.

The worst thing about it all was that he thought he was starting to get feelings for her. It was still very confusing though, because at the same time she lit up the room, she also cast a darkening spell over it, so Harry didn't know whether to be happy to see her or want to run a hundred miles in the opposite direction. Still, his work kept him close to her, and no matter how toxic she became to him, he wanted, almost craved, the brief touches she gave him.

Harry noticed that Parkinson seemed to be trying a little harder to be polite to the customers. Well, the male ones at least, she tended to dismiss the female ones, particularly if Harry was talking to them. As much as he hated to admit it, when she flirted with other men, it made him hurt inside. He wanted to dive over the counter and throw them out, but he couldn't. He had to stand there and watch, and he was sure she was doing it on purpose because she'd continuously smirk at him while she did it.

 _Damn_ , he thought. _I've really got myself into a mess_. He didn't have a clue how he was going to get out of it, but he knew he couldn't bottle it up. He had to tell someone, and there was only one person he could talk to about it: Ron. So that was where he found himself, sat in the _Leaky Cauldron_ with his best friend that night after work.

"Mate, you alright?" Ron asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "It's her, isn't it? See, I told you to get rid of her, but would you listen? Nope. The great Harry Potter, always has to be right -"

Harry knew that Ron could go on forever if he let him, and knew the only way he was going to be able to talk about it was if he blurted it right out. "I like her."

Ron stopped in his tracks. "You _like_ her?"

"I like her like _that_. I have feelings for her."

A chuckle escaped from Ron. "What have you been taking, mate?"

"Nothing." Harry shook his head and looked around gloomily. "It's getting to be a real problem. She knows."

"How do you know she knows?"

Harry lowered his voice and moved in closer to Ron. "Because we... did stuff."

"Did stuff? What stuff?" Ron was acting clueless, as per usual, and Harry really didn't fancy spelling it out for him, so he raised his eyebrows. "Oh..." Finally, Ron got it, but he looked as though he was going to throw up. "How could you? Are you blind or something? I know, I bet she's used a love potion on you."

Harry shook his head. "No, no love potion. I would have noticed one missing from the stock takes _I_ do." He could have sworn he saw a glint of a guilty look in Ron's eyes, but if he did, it sure wasn't there seconds later.

"How did that even happen?" Ron seemed to be curious now.

"Well," Harry didn't really know where to start. "I don't know, it just did. We didn't plan it or anything." There was a loud cackling noise from across the bar, and Harry looked up to see where it came from. He could have sworn he recognised it, but couldn't place a name to the sound. Whoever made it was standing with a group of men, flirtily touching their shoulders, and he couldn't help but think at least one of them was going to get lucky tonight. That was when the dark haired woman turned around, and Harry dropped his glass.

"You alright, mate?" asked Ron, wiping off the bit of beer that had landed on him.

Harry pointed his head in the direction of the group. "That's Parkinson."

Ron turned around. "And she's..."

"...flirting with those guys. Yes, I know."

"But I thought you said you 'did stuff'?" Ron looked even more confused than ever now, and Harry wasn't sure he was going to be able to get any decent advice out of him. "You were joking, then?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "We're just not together. She's a free agent, I guess."

"Man." Ron sighed heavily. "I don't know how you cope with that -"

"Yeah, well," Harry interrupted him, he didn't want to hear it. "Can we just go?"

Ron nodded, grabbing his coat. "Sure, sure. I reckon you should stay well clear of her, mate. She's trouble." Inside, Harry knew he was right, he just had trouble admitting it to himself, but seeing her with those guys, well, it hurt. It was worse than seeing her flirt with the customers. At work, she couldn't do anything with them, but here, it was fair game.

Feeling depressed and confused, Harry got straight into bed without even getting dressed first as soon as he arrived home.

*

Harry hadn't been in work in a week, he'd managed to get Ron to do all of his shifts. Ron wasn't happy about it, but since he was supposed to be working all the time, he didn't have much of a leg to stand on. All he'd heard from Ron was that Parkinson was a 'whining bitch' and he 'didn't see what was so attractive about her'.

Eventually, Ron gave up - he wasn't working anymore with her, and Harry had to go back to the shop. They'd originally made a deal that Ron would work until things had blown over, and Harry didn't think a week was long enough. Alas, he had no choice unless he wanted to see the shop go under at the hands of Parkinson, and that didn't sound very pretty.

"Well, well, well," Parkinson greeted him that morning. "The wanderer returns. Been avoiding me, have you?"

Harry walked straight past her and into the back room, but she followed him.

"Ignoring me, are you?" She leant against the doorframe as he settled behind the desk. "You know you can't do that for long, we have to work together."

Harry sighed. He just wanted her to go away and leave him alone, but the shop was dead so early in the morning and she didn't have anything else to do. "I'm keeping things purely professional, Miss Parkinson."

"Oooh!" she mocked him. " _Miss_ Parkinson, is it now?"

"Can you please get back to work?"

She shrugged. "Nothing to do."

"Well, just..." He was cursing Ron under his breath; he was fast losing patience with this woman. "Just do something, _anything_ , just don't bug me."

Parkinson rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. If that's the way you want it. Don't see why you've been avoiding me, though."

"I saw you in the pub," Harry blurted out, and then blushed profusely.

"What?"

There was no way he was going to be able to get out of explaining this one. "I was in the Leaky Cauldron with Ron last week, and I saw you there with all those guys... flirting."

"Oh." A smirk came across her face. "So what? Aren't I allowed any fun?"

"I just thought -" he cleared his throat, "that you and I had something going on."

"We did. Doesn't stop me having casual fun with others, though."

As far as Harry was concerned, it did. They weren't officially together, but he knew there was something between them and he didn't think either of them should waste that by flirting with others. "Just get back to work."

"I don't think so," Parkinson said suggestively, licking her lips as she walked towards him. "I have a better idea."

Knowing what she was about to do, Harry stuck his hands out and protested, but she placed a finger over his lips and gently pulled his arms away.

"Shhh, baby." Parkinson knelt down and felt his thighs with her hands, running her index finger delicately around his crotch. Harry started to get hard and cursed himself inside, hating the fact that his body just couldn't resist her. He looked at her face to find that familiar smirk plastered all over it, knowing she knew he was hot for her. "Relax, Potter. You're too tense."

"I don't think this is a good idea..." Harry said as she unzipped his trousers, but his words didn't mean much when he lifted his bum up to help her pull them down.

"Trust me," Parkinson said confidently. "You want this."

Harry didn't say anything. His body wasn't denying her, and his mind was only putting up a pathetic bit of resistance. He did want this, but he wanted so much more than this, too. As her warm hands gently touched his penis, he leant his head back, loving the feel of her body against his.

"Do you like that, Potter?" she teased him. "I can make it better for you, you know. All you have to do is ask."

Harry knew exactly what she meant; she was prepared to fuck him if he asked for it. He wanted it - man did he want it - but he was debating whether it was worth humiliating himself for. One look down at her breasts made up his mind, and he breathed in deeply to get the courage to speak. "I want to... I'm ready to, well, you know."

Parkinson shook her head and looked up at him with innocent eyes. "No, I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean."

Frustrated, he wanted to scream it at her, but managed to calm down and say it through gritted teeth instead. "Can we have sex?"

A wide smile appeared across her face as she stood up and pulled down her knickers. "Oh sure, of course! Why didn't you just say so?"

Harry knew she was teasing him, but he was far too gone to tell her off for it now. He stared at her body as she turned around and sat on his lap, impaling herself on him. The feeling was incredible, and she started pumping up and down on him as soon as she could. There was no doubt about it, the girl had stamina and energy, and he'd never seen it so much in a woman before. Daringly he reached his hands up to cup her breasts through her top. He half expected her to bat them away, but she didn't, letting him grope and fondle at his leisure.

Parkinson's nipples were rock hard and he loved twisting them and squeezing her breasts. She didn't seem to mind, in fact, he could have sworn it spurred her on even more. They hadn't had a need for lube, she was wet enough as it was, and the sounds of slurping didn't turn him off, as much as it usually would have.

"Your pussy is amazing," he groaned, surprised at himself as he'd never managed to talk dirty during sex before.

"I know," she said matter of factly, making Harry go gooey-eyed for her confidence. Once she started moaning herself, he knew he was going to come soon.

Parkinson's muscles tightened and it felt amazing; he threw his head back and let out a piercing scream as jets of cum spurted into her waiting and spasming cunt. It was a couple of minutes before they both managed to catch their breath and Parkinson jumped off his lap. She grabbed her knickers and pulled them on speedily, grinning at him.

"Bye, then," she waved as she headed for the door.

"What do you mean?" Harry was frantically doing up his trousers.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off."

"But -" There was no point Harry saying any more, she was out the door so fast he wondered if she'd just gone through with the sex as an excuse to get off work. As much as he wanted to, he didn't rule it out as one of her motives. She could be a manipulative bitch, she'd proved that often enough.

*

It was a week and a half before Parkinson came back into work again. Harry was livid, because although things between then would be tense, he really needed her help around the place. The accounts were due soon and he couldn't do them and mind the shop, and since Ron had spent the week working with Parkinson, he refused to come in until she'd left for good.

It didn't help that it was supposed to be the last of her trial week, and considering her behaviour, Harry wasn't sure he was going to give her the job. Sure, there needed to be more staff, but at the end of the day, there was no point paying someone who showed up sporadically. He'd just have to advertise in the _Daily Prophet_ to see if he could find someone reliable.

Harry didn't want to mention it to her, though. He could just picture her reaction and it wasn't pretty. Part of him hoped she would just never come back to work, then he wouldn't have to go through the stress of telling her she probably wasn't the right person to work with him. He was stood behind the counter worrying about this issue when she waltzed through the door, wearing sunglasses far too large and looking as though she didn't have a care in the world.

"I think you need a smaller size of sunglasses, Parkinson." As she took them off, she scowled at him, and that was when he realised why she'd been wearing them in the first place: her face was bright red from crying. He half wondered why she hadn't cast a spell to fix it, but thinking about who it was he guessed she probably wasn't sure how to and didn't want it to go wrong. "Where've you been? I need to talk to you."

"No," Parkinson said firmly. " _I_ need to talk to you."

Harry shook his head, "I don't want to hear your sorry excuses for why you haven't been in -"

"I'm pregnant."

Her words stopped Harry in his tracks; he felt as though his world was spinning and he felt sick to his stomach. "What?" he managed to say. "How? I mean, we used... didn't we? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Why do you think I haven't been in?"

"Well, you're kind of lazy."

Parkinson sneered at him, her lips pursed and fury in her eyes. "It's an accident, and luckily, accidents can be cleaned up."

Harry's jaw fell open, he wasn't ready to be a parent by any means, especially not with someone he wasn't even sure he liked, but he didn't want her to just get rid of the baby like it never even happened. "You can't!"

"Oh, yes I can." She said with an air of annoyance about her. "And I will."

"No -"

Parkinson placed her hands on her hips before interupting him. "Since it's my last week, do I get the job?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Harry couldn't believe the cheek of the woman. If he wasn't sure whether to give her the job before, he certainly wasn't going to give it to her now. "Of course not!"

"Because I don't want this child?"

"Because you're a manipulative, selfish, lazy cow and I don't want you anywhere near me. _Especially_ if you can disregard my feelings in such an important matter." As much as he wanted to scream that at her, he managed to contain himself and say it in a cold, low tone instead.

"Screw you, Potter," she yelled at him, banging her fists on the desk and running out of the shop. True to her nature she slammed the door shut after her.

For the rest of the day, Harry felt in a complete daze. He didn't know what to do or what to think, and after only a couple of hours he closed early and went back home. Ron was lay on the sofa as usual, eating packet after packet of crisps.

"You're home early, she minding the place?" Ron said through a mouthful of salt and vinegar.

Harry shook his head. "No. I've said she can't have the job."

Ron patted his friend on the back. "Good on you, mate. Best thing all round."

"She's pregnant... with my child."

Ron was as gobsmacked as Harry was when he first heard about it, and his jaw dropped as low as it could go. "Are you serious?"

Harry nodded. "Unfortunately."

"What are you going to do?"

"She's already decided," he sighed. "She's getting rid of it."

"Didn't she ask you what you wanted?"

"Of course not." Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly and sat down next to the fireplace.

"I bet it's not even yours," Ron offered as consolation.

Harry didn't think it was very likely, but at the end of the day, they were talking about Parkinson of all people. Apparently she had no care in the world for anyone but herself. "Perhaps."

"You're best off out of it all, mate. At least you don't have to see her anymore."

"True," Harry said, staring into the fire as though it was going to take him off to some exotic place to forget about his worries. "I'm going to go get some rest. See you later."

"Bye, mate."

*

It was three weeks later when Harry next heard from Parkinson, this time in the form of a letter from her owl. It was only a small letter, on a tiny piece of parchment, but it gave Harry the relief of a lifetime. The only words written on it were ' _Thanks for the chance. Oh, and the baby wasn't yours anyway. Sorry_.' but it cleared Harry's head immensly.

No longer would he spend the rest of his life wondering what had happened to the child he had concieved with someone he wasn't even that keen on. That was somebody else's problem.

Instead, he would spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if the child was his, and whether she would've kept it if it was. He knew if the child was his, and she'd've kept it, he'd have to marry her. That's just the way he was, and he would stand by her despite her constant insistance that she wasn't keen on him. _Well, at least I'm not tied to her for life_ , he thought as he sat on his bed, happy that his life could finally go back to normal.


End file.
